


Trouble in Unassuming Packages

by casual_distance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Demon Dean, Face-Fucking, Fallen Angel Castiel, Handcuffs, M/M, Masturbation, Painplay, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7871809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets caught by Alistair, but he doesn’t expect what’s waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble in Unassuming Packages

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SPN Kink Bingo to fill the square “handcuffs”. My card can be [found on my tumblr](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/kinkbingocard2016).

Dean wakes slowly. He's cold. The concrete he's sitting on is broken, chunks of debris digging into his ass and thighs. His arms are pulled back behind him, jerked up as high as they'll go and then just a little more. The edges of the handcuffs dig into his wrists. His fingers are numb. His neck aches.

Dean rolls his head to the side, hissing as sore muscles protest. Something thunks and Dean opens his eyes to see a man standing across the room. He stares at Dean, face expressionless, hands dangling by his sides. He wears a trench coat over a suit, but everything is ill-fitting, sitting too large on his frame. His eyes shine blue in the dim light, but Dean didn’t need that to know he was looking at something that wasn’t human.

"Who are you?" Dean asks, his voice ragged.

The man says nothing, just continues to stare at him.

Dean grunts. "Any chance you can let me out of here?"

The man stops staring then, lowering his eyes to look at something by his feet. Dean follows his gaze down and sees the man is trapped. He stands inside a circle that glows dimly. It's the only light in the room, Dean belated realizes.

Dean looks around, kicking himself for not having done so sooner. There are cages in the room, handcuffs dangling from the ceiling, coils of rope. Instruments of torture line the far wall- blades of all sorts, needles, pliers, wire, a variety of liquids. They are alone in the room, just the two of them. Dean grunts. He looks back at the other man, taking in his stillness. He studies the glowing ring.

"Is- is that holy oil?" he asks.

"A variation of it." The man’s voice is rough, ragged. Dean likes it.

He considers the man more carefully. Now that he's looking he can see way the edges of him flicker with dim light. He can see the curve of shadows rising from his back.

Dean whistles lowly. "I'll be damned. An angel."

The man shifts his weight. He's staring at Dean again. "And you're a demon."

Dean gives him a toothy grin. "Dean. Dean Winchester."

The man doesn't react- which is all kinds of disappointing- but he does say, "I'm Ezekiel."

Dean pretends to think, pursing his lips and humming. "Never heard of you," he teases.

Ezekiel only answers, "There's no reason you would have,” and continues to stare at him. Dean stares back for a little while, but when Ezekiel doesn't even blink, Dean grows bored.

Dean strains his hearing, trying to see if Sam is nearby, but he can't make out anything. With a resigned sigh, Dean shifts around, trying to see how he can get out of the handcuffs. He can feel the sigils etched into them burning his skin.

It strains his shoulders, but Dean is able to shift enough to see that the handcuffs are looped around a hook. If he can get to his feet, Dean should be able to sling the chain over the tip of the hook. He clucks his tongue and thinks _sloppy_.

Dean dislocates a shoulder during his efforts, the pull of the chain too tight for him to avoid it, but he gets to his feet. He shoves his shoulder back into place and waits for his body to heal. Once the pain has eased, he catches the chain and slings it over the hook. He's still handcuffed, but he's mobile.

He turns to the angel, who watches him with no expression, not even jealousy.

"How long you been in here?" Dean asks as he walks the circle of holy oil, bending down to study it. He and Sam don't tangle with angels much, but they’ve learned enough to know that holy oil is the best defense. He thinks they might like some of whatever this is.

"Longer than you," Ezekiel answers.

Dean barks a laugh as he straightens up. "What're you in here for?" Angels don't typically get caught by demons, let alone one like Alistair.

Ezekiel narrows his eyes at Dean, but he doesn't actually answer.

"You want me to free you?" Dean asks. He edges the toe of his boot toward the holy oil ring. Ezekiel's eyes dip down to watch, then dart back up. He steps toward Dean.

"It would be wise if you did."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean laughs. "Why's that?"

"An angel owing you a favor is-"

Dean cuts Ezekiel off with a scoff. "I don't need no angel to owe me _anything_."

"Then you don't fear having an angel for an enemy either?" Ezekiel asks. He stares at Dean through narrowed eyes, his mouth twisted in a scowl. His wings become less shadow and more sharp-edged blackness. It's a valiant threat.

"You're trapped."

"I won't always be."

"You'd have escaped by now if you could."

"I was waiting."

Dean laughs again, stepping back. "That's rich. Oh god that's rich." 

Dean digs his phone out of his pocket, turning his back on Ezekiel. He dials Sam who picks up with an annoyed grunt.

"Hey, dickface," Dean greets. "Did you forget about me?"

Sam sighs into the phone. "I was getting around to it."

"Whatever," Dean grumbles. He turns back around to watch Ezekiel. "Hey, I got an angel here."

"An angel?" Sam perks up, his voice rising in pitch. Dean hears a woman say something in the background. Sam snaps back at her, muffled and annoyed. They argue back and forth while Dean wanders to the torture wall and picks through the supplies there. Most of the blades are blunt- great for torture, not so great for anything else. Dean passes them over, pausing when he comes to a blade that looks sharp. Dean tests it against the bulb of his thumb. Blood wells up. Dean licks up the blood as he slips the knife into his back pocket.

On the phone Sam finally returns, grumbling in his ear. "Which angel?" he asks.

"Ezekiel." Dean turns around. Ezekiel is watching him, back to that expressionless look. He's tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Ezekiel..." Sam hums thoughtfully then sighs. "Nope, nothing. You should bring him. I got some questions."

"Sure thing. You gonna come with the van?"

"Yeah. Leave your phone on."

"Lazy."

Sam scoffs and hangs up.

Dean turns back to the weapons, looking for something that might work on an angel. He doesn't find anything, but he does find a jug of holy oil. He carries it with him back to Ezekiel's cage.

"So here's the deal," Dean says as he sets the jug down by his feet. "You're comin' with me. My brother has a few things he wants to ask you."

Ezekiel raises his eyebrows.

Dean takes his lighter from his pocket, the chain connecting his wrists clinking. Dean clicks it open, the tiny flame flickering to life. "I have this holy oil and I will light your ass on fire if you try anything."

Ezekiel shrugs. It's no acquiescence, but it's close enough. Dean steps on the ring of holy oil. It holds solid under his foot for a second before it cracks, the sound sharp and high. It sends a shudder down his spine. The ring flickers then dies out. Dean looks up to find Ezekiel directly in front of him. His eyes spark blue.

Before Dean can react, Ezekiel has the chain of Dean's handcuffs in his fingers, pulling and twisting it until he's bound Dean's arms together, the chain looped around his fist for control. He grabs Dean’s hand and squeezes until Dean drops the lighter, then he kicks it across the room. When Dean tries to lash out with his legs, Ezekiel kicks them from under him, sending him to the ground, knees cracking sharply against the concrete. Pain shoots through Dean's left leg, then eases as the broken kneecap heals.

Ezekiel's grip is tight on his shoulder, holding him down, fingers digging into bone and muscle.

"If you think I would let myself become your pet, you're mistaken," Ezekiel growls.

"Too good for a demon?" Dean spits.

Ezekiel chuckles, the sound low and dark. His fingers loosen, but he doesn't let go. Instead he trails his fingers to Dean's chin. He grips it, pushing Dean's head up so that his neck is extended. Ezekiel slides his thumb against Dean's lower lip, dragging it down. His eyes spark dangerously and Dean is suddenly aware of the way his slacks bulge out at the crotch.

Dean smirks around the thumb on his lips, looking up to stare into Ezekiel's eyes. "Dirty angel."

Ezekiel clucks and yanks on the chains, jerking Dean painfully. "My brothers would be inclined to agree with you."

Dean holds his gaze but he jerks his chin toward Ezekiel's crotch. "You gonna do something with that?"

Ezekiel wrinkles his nose. "If you think offering yourself to me is going to lessen my inclination to take you-"

Dean laughs. "Dude, just fucking stick your dick in me already."

Ezekiel taps Dean's lip with his thumb. "I like that demons don't need to breathe."

Dean frowns, but before he can parse through Ezekiel's statement, he's freed his cock from his slacks and forced the head past Dean's lips. Dean startles, flinching enough to close his teeth on Ezekiel's cock. Ezekiel jerks on his hair before he twists the chains, but he doesn't give any orders, doesn't tell Dean to open wider. Dean looks up to see Ezekiel's head roll back as he fucks into Dean's mouth, heedless of the graze of Dean’s teeth.

Dean smirks as best he can around Ezekiel's cock. An angel who likes pain. It sends delighted shivers down Dean's spine. Dean watches Ezekiel as he teases him, opening his mouth and relaxing his throat so that Ezekiel can fuck into it with no resistance. When Ezekiel establishes a rhythm, tight and fast, his hips snapping against Dean's face with enough force a human's teeth would be shattered, Dean tightens his jaw, lets his teeth drag along Ezekiel's cock. Ezekiel moans and thrusts into him sharply. He lets go of the chain to twist both hands into Dean's hair, forcing Dean’s head into movement counter to his thrusts.

Dean reaches up to wrap his hands around Ezekiel's thighs. They're thick and round, the muscles bunching and releasing beneath Dean’s palms. Dean groans and scoots closer. Ezekiel grunts back, fingers tightening. Dean slips his hands back to Ezekiel's ass. Ezekiel hisses his approval and thrusts faster. Dean loosens his jaw again, but he slips fingers between Ezekiel's ass cheeks, pressing against his hole. He forces the tip of his finger in despite the layers of fabric. Ezekiel moans and comes, grinding his hips against Dean's face, fingers yanking on his hair.

Before Dean has time to process it, Ezekiel jerks Dean's head back, his cock falling free of Dean's mouths. It's wet, slicked with his own come, Dean's spit, and bright red streaks of blood. It's a gorgeous cock and Dean licks his lips in pleasure of having had that in his mouth.

Ezekiel shoves Dean back, kicking him in the shoulder until Dean lands on his back heavily. Dean groans at the impact. Ezekiel shifts forward to stand between Dean's thighs, forcing them apart.

"Take your cock out," he tells Dean even as he tucks his away.

Dean obeys, unzipping his pants and shoving them down just enough to free himself. Ezekiel folds his arms over his chest. His coat pulls tight across his body.

"Get yourself off." He holds out a wrist, revealing a watch. "You have 60 seconds."

Dean laughs; he's not going to need that much time, not when he can taste Ezekiel's come on the back of his tongue, not when the angel stands over him and stares down at him, unblinking, blue eyes dark with arousal. Dean jerks his cock hard and fast, hips moving in time to his strokes. 

Dean comes in 30 seconds, and Ezekiel gives an approving nod. He fishes a handkerchief from his pocket for Dean to clean up with. Then he takes it back, hiding it away in a pocket.

"You keepin’ my come?" Dean asks as he stretches on the floor. He leaves his cock out, knees lazily drifting as he watches Ezekiel.

Ezekiel shrugs. "Come has power."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "No shit?" Maybe he shouldn't have let the angel take it. He'll have to ask Sam about that, see if he needs to concern himself over it. For now, Dean has something he wants to know. "What's your real name?"

Ezekiel smirks at him, but Dean can see the way his eyes spark with approval. Dean preens under it.

"Castiel," he says, and Dean freezes in place. 

He stares up at the angel, mouth dropped open in shock. "The hell you are," he forces out.

Castiel chuckles. He leans over and snatches up the handcuff chain. He yanks on it until Dean stands too. He wraps it around his wrist, then reaches forward to tuck Dean's cock away. He zips Dean’s pants up slowly, buttons them closed. He pulls on the chain until Dean is chest-to-chest with him.

"Do you really think I would lie about that?" Castiel asks, his voice pitched low.

Dean shakes his head. 

No one would lie about being Castiel, the fallen angel. The one who didn't even to bother calling himself _God_ , because he wanted to be known as more than that. Castiel was the angel who had hunted down God- and then killed him. The one who had laid waste to Heaven afterwards, committing genocide on a level that not even the most blood-thirsty humans can comprehend. Afterwards he had turned his attention to Hell, hunting down his brother- hunting down _Lucifer_ \- and killing him. He killed any demon that got in his way, any demon he didn't even so much as like and a few that he had.

Dean swallows nervously. "How did Alistair catch you?"

Castiel smirks. "I was waiting for you."

Dean closes his eyes. Castiel hums softly. He reaches up and touches Dean's cheek. "I don't have any intention of hurting you," Castiel says.

Dean opens his eyes again. Castiel's fingers trace soft lines against his jaw.

"You have a reputation. One I have been greatly interested in."

Dean raises his eyebrows at that. "Are you hitting on me?"

Castiel narrows his eyes, scowling at Dean. He tightens his hold on the chain, twisting until the handcuffs bite into Dean’s wrists again.

Dean doesn't bother flinching, just holds Castiel's gaze. Castiel smiles.

"Yes, Dean, I believe I am."


End file.
